The Flower Language of Yellow Azalea

Li Aoz was not shocked by her. He merely walked calmly behind her, sat down with his back against hers, then reached his right hand over his left shoulder and rested it on hers.

The old woman understood his intention. She placed her hand over the back of his and quietly felt his warmth. "Your hand is still so warm and strong. Your skin is still young. I remember holding this hand once and kneeling before you to propose marriage—hehe, I really was full of energy when I was young."

Li Aoz said nothing. He could feel the wrinkled palm trembling continuously.

It had been far too long since the old woman had spoken with anyone familiar. She needed some time to adjust and organize her words.

"Hundreds of years ago, during the Amirelio Federation, the government was capable, the people lived in harmony, and the land was at peace. I was also a young, promising, healthy, lively girl. I had always looked forward to the state assigning me a brave, strong, hardworking partner—perhaps a farmer, worker, soldier, or astronaut—when, at that very moment, the state assigned me a mission."

The old woman tried hard to calm her turbulent emotions. "'Alexia, among your generation, you possess the best physical constitution, excellent mental fortitude, and fine character. We hope you will go and see the world of the future for your motherland. If there is someone among them whom you like, then join with them. As an envoy linking the future and the past, write a new peace.'"

"'But what if they encounter difficulties and setbacks?' I asked."

"'Then you must become their bride.' The secretary told me this: 'You must guide them and serve them. If they acquire new shackles and enemies, then use your hammer to smash them to